Dine and Dash- A 'Becoming Winchester' Story
by Blossom9
Summary: Taking place in the 'Becoming Winchester' AU, 14-year-old Adam has been with the Winchester family for two years and after witnessing Sam's exit to college, he's now watching his new family fall apart. Chapters 1 & 2 are including in the main 'Becoming Winchester' series, Chapter 3 is DARK and didn't fit with the rest of the story. Warning: severe corporal punishment
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 23: Dine and Dash

 _ **Timeline**_ _:_ _Time jump alert!_ _Adam is 14 years old. Sam left for college about 7 months ago and Adam is still on the road hunting with his father and Dean._

 _-/-/-/_

"Come on man! Please!" Adam begged, looking up at the stoic older man standing over him.

"No."

"Come on! I'll do some dishes, clean the floors! Whatever! Just don't call the cops!"

"No," the man replied, leaning down toward Adam, "I'm sick of little high school shits like you coming in here and stealing from me. My restaurant is not some teenager dare!"

"I don't even know about that man. I'm serious." Adam pleaded, getting increasingly nervous.

"Tough luck kid. You picked the wrong place to dine and dash," the man said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over Adam.

Adam shook his head in defeat and slumped down into the booth he was currently being boxed into by the owner of the deli. He couldn't believe he'd gotten caught. He'd been 'dining and dashing' on and off for weeks now and hadn't been caught since the very first time. And even then he was able to convince that owner to let him work off the food he'd stolen. But of course, this time when he gets caught, the owner is a dickhead with an ax to grind. Typical Winchester luck.

Adam glanced around the diner wondering if he could make a break under the table and out the door before the owner or any of the other staff snagged him when the bells on the front door rang out and a policeman casually walked in.

 _Shit._

There was no way he was gonna be able to make a break for it now. The grumpy, overweight restaurant owner had him cornered and now the officer had clearly spotted him.

"Problem here Don?" the cop asked the owner as he approached them.

"Damn right. I'm sick of these kids," the owner said angrily, glaring down at Adam.

Adam didn't respond, even though he wanted to roll his eyes.

"You sure you want me to take him in?" the cop asked, glancing at Adam.

"I wanna make an example of this kid, Greg. I'm losing too much money on these little shits,"

Adam watched the conversation between the two carefully; trying to remember all the tips and tricks that Dad had taught him about reading a situation. He knew he needed to decide soon how he was going to play his cards with the cop, decide which persona could get him the most sympathy or hell, even apathy, and get him out of this mess.

The cop looked both bored and aggravated with the restaurant owner and the situation, but he sighed and adjusted his gear belt and motioned for Adam to get up.

"Alright. Come on kid. We'll call your parents from down at the station."

Adam kept his face neutral, knowing that the "down at the station" line was probably meant to scare him. He slid out of the booth and walked toward the door with the officer close behind him, never looking back at the grouchy, old owner who was probably smiling at the sight of the bad seed getting his due.

The officer opened the restaurant door and put a firm hand on Adam's shoulder, a gentle indication Adam knew, that he better not try to run.

"I don't need to cuff you do I?" the cop asked, tightening the hold he had on Adam's shoulder slightly.

"No sir," Adam replied.

Adam wasn't gonna run. To get free of the cop he'd have to hurt the guy and that would only draw more attention and make everything worse. So Adam let himself be shuffled toward the cop car parked out front and didn't resist as the door was opened and he was pushed into the backseat.

Adam sighed and slumped down deep into the smooth leather seat as the cop shut the door with a heavy thud.

 _I'm totally screwed,_ he thought.

Adam watched as the cop went back around to the front of the car, talking with another restaurant employee who'd come outside. He looked around the interior of the car, wondering if there was any way he could get out without anyone noticing. There were no handles on the interior doors and only steel mesh between the back and front seats. Short of kicking out the rear window glass, Adam couldn't think of any way to get out.

 _Fuck._

The officer finished up his conversation and got into the car, glancing up into the rearview mirror before staring the engine.

"Bet you wish you hadn't taken that dare now, huh kid?" he asked to the mirror.

Adam didn't answer but kept his face calm and neutral. Dad always said that keeping calm in a situation meant keeping control and damn if Adam was loose control this early in the game.

"You think your parents are gonna like picking you up from the police station, son?" the officer asked, as he backed out of the parking spot and turned toward the main road.

Adam kept quiet, carefully watching the officer and trying to pick out anything about the guy he could use to help his case.

"What's your name kid?" the cop asked, glancing into the mirror again.

Adam hesitated a moment, unsure if he would be giving away any edge by speaking and then again wondering if he should give his real name. He was fairly sure that the 'rebel teenager' bit wouldn't go over well with this guy, so maybe 'stupid, scared new kid' was the way to go?

"Adam." He answered finally, taking note of the man's accepting nod.

Good. The nod was a good sign. Talking was the way to go with this guy. Maybe he had kids of his own, or maybe he remembered being a dumb kid making bad decisions, either way, Adam could benefit.

"And you're what…13?" the officer asked, glancing down at the computer beside him as a call came across the radio in the car.

Adam unconsciously recognized the EMS response call but he didn't know the code the dispatcher had called out. Sam had made sure he knew all the 10 codes that most police stations used, but the individual codes for incidents varied by city and county.

"14." Adam corrected, keeping one ear on the radio out of habit.

The officer nodded, "You picked a bad day to try out Ol' Don. He's been losing a lot of money lately and he thinks its 'cause of you kids stealing from him,"

Adam just shook his head and looked out the window.

"You know eating food and not paying for it is a crime, right kid? Same as stealing." the cop asked and Adam could feel the man's eyes on him.

 _Even if you haven't eaten in days?_

"Yeah, I know," Adam said quietly to the window, as he watched the winter scenery pass.

"What'd you think your friends are gonna say about this? Think real friends would put you up to something like this?" the officer asked.

Adam had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. Ok, this guy's M.O was clear: help the troubled teen. Well, troubled teen Adam could play, easily. Maybe he could even make it 'troubled teen with a heart of gold', a true afterschool special moment. Dean would be so proud.

"Guess not," Adam replied quietly.

"This is a tough lesson to learn, son," the officer said, glancing up into the rearview mirror meaningfully, "You have to be careful about who your friends are,"

"We just moved here," Adam said pitifully, putting his cards into play, "I was just trying to fit in,"

The officer looked up into the mirror again and Adam could see his pathetic words land right where he intended him.

"Look, kid," the cop said, as they pulled into the police station, "I'll see if I can get Don to drop the charges,"

The cop put the car into park and turned a little in his seat so that he was partially facing Adam, "But look, what you did was wrong. You stole from him and you're gonna have to make it up somehow, either by paying for your meal or working it off,"

"I know," Adam said, biting hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his expression serious even though he wanted to grin at his ploy working so nicely, "I'll work it off if he wants me to,"

"Alright," he said, "Let's go call your parents,"

Whatever smile Adam might have been trying to hide completely evaporated at the words. He'd kinda forgotten that part.

As the back door was opened and Adam slide out, he glanced around, wondering if now was his golden moment to make a run for it. Of course, as typical of the rest of his luck on this day, there were three other uniformed officers standing in the parking lot chatting, spaced just far enough away that they'd easily be able to tackle Adam the moment he tried to run.

The officer's strong hand was heavy on Adam's shoulder again as he was lead into the small town police station. It was vague and non-descript just like every other station he'd been into when working cases with Dad, the only difference being the city name on the door.

He was lead to a plain brown metal chair, positioned at the end of a similarly plain brown metal desk. Adam sat down heavily in the chair and resigned himself to being stuck. There was no way he could get out of the station without creating a huge commotion and ruining the thin trust he'd developed with the officer who picked him up, trust he wanted to keep in case he needed it.

The officer sat down behind the desk and grabbed a large beige desk phone from the opposite corner, pushing it towards Adam.

"Ok, let's get this over with," he said, picking up the receiver, "Dial 1 to get out,"

Adam took the receiver from the cop and stared down at the numbers on the phone.

Who was he gonna call?

Dad? Hell no. Not only did he not want John Winchester picking him up from a police station, but Dad had also left on a hunt two days ago, which meant he was likely right in the thick of ganking some hell beast. Dad almost never answered his phone when he was hunting and half the time he didn't have cell reception anyway. So no. Not Dad.

Dean?

Dean should have been his first thought. Normally would have been. But Dean was the whole reason he was in this mess to begin with.

Something had broken within his brother when Sam left, despite the fact that Adam was pretty sure Dean had seen it coming. Sam had been gone for months now and every few weeks something would snap within Dean and he'd crawl into the bottle for a few days just like Dad did.

Dean never said anything. He'd never admit it. But there wasn't any other reason that Adam could figure out for Dean to be such a mess… so… not Dean. He could go weeks and be normal big brother Dean, doing all the regular things he always did: hunting, drinking, chasing women, but then something would happen (Adam never knew exactly what) and a switch would flip and Dean would be destroyed. He'd suddenly be quieter, brooding and angry. Then would come the nights where he didn't come home or if he did show up at the motel room it was a 6 am as Adam was getting ready for school and he was still shit faced drunk and stinking of cheap perfume. Then would come the all-day drinking binges where he didn't leave the motel room. He'd stock up on six packs and work his way through them while watching daytime soap operas and yelling at the afternoon courtroom dramas. After a few days of that, he'd remember he still had a younger brother and feel guilty. He'd hustle some extra pool games and take Adam out to the grocery store or take him out to the movies or to play mini golf. It was a cycle they'd been through several times already since Sam left in July.

This past week had been one of those weeks. Dean was deep in the bottle, hiding from something or working through something, Adam wasn't sure. But either way, there hadn't been any food around. Dean just wasn't in his right mind to go and get any. It wasn't a huge deal though and Adam tried not to begrudge his brother something that seemed to have destroyed him on a cellular level. So mostly Adam just took care of himself. He wasn't a little kid, and hell even when he had been a little kid he was able to look out for himself. His mom was amazing, but she worked long hours, sometimes night or weekends. And while she always made sure there was food in the house Adam learned to cook and feed himself when he needed to. As it was now, Adam had figured out that he could skip dinners during the weeks of Dean's binges and as long as he could make it to school early enough he could join in the free breakfast program the county had going. Add that to skimming dollars from Dean and Dad's wallets when they were around and Adam had his weekend meals pretty much set too. Except this week Dad was gone and every time Adam had been able to sneak into Dean's pockets to look for cash all he'd found was condom wrappers and bottle lids.

So he'd been forced to decide how he was gonna feed himself. Options at the motel were limited. Basically ice chips from the hallway icemaker and possibly a coke from the machine if he could find some change or break the lock on it. That wasn't gonna be enough to make it until Monday morning. By the time Saturday evening rolled around Adam was trying to decide where he was gonna steal from. There was a market a few blocks away that was small and looked promising, but Dean had said stealing, even things like bread and peanut butter, from places like that would get you caught easy. So Adam had turned to the Deli. He'd overheard the kids at school talking about it and figured it must be an easy spot since all those idiots could steal food there and they clearly hadn't been trained the way he had. Clearly, he was wrong.

"Kid?" the officer said, shaking Adam from his thoughts, "Go on. Make the call."

Adam sighed. Dean was his best hope at this point. Sam was gone. Dad was MIA. Adam just had to hope that Dean wasn't passed out yet, or even better that he was sober enough to drive and come get him.

Adam dialed the number to Dean's current burner cell, vaguely impressed with himself for remembering the number seeing as Dad had them switching up phones every few weeks.

He pressed the receiver to his ear and listened as it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Finally, Adam heard a click and almost opened his mouth to speak before he was cut off by Dean's recorded voicemail message.

"It's Dean. Leave it at the beep."

Adam cleared his throat roughly, "Dean, it's me. I'm ok. I'm at the police station. Can you come get me? It's on 12th."

Adam hesitated, wondering if there was anything else he should say before hanging up. He glanced up at the officer watching him and decided he'd said enough and put the phone back down in its cradle.

"Dean?" the cop asked skeptically, "You call your old man by his first name?"

"No… sir," Adam said, "My brother. My dad is out of town, out of cell range. He wouldn't get the call,"

The officer eyed him suspiciously; clearly assuming that Adam was trying to pull something with his phone call to hide his transgression from his father.

"Well, he'd get the message when he gets back in range right? Why don't we call him just to let him know what's going on. Here, you dial and I'll talk," he said, picking up the phone again and motioning for Adam to start dialing.

Although hiding this whole incident from Dad hadn't yet occurred to him, Adam would have been happy if his father never found out. And with enough guilt and blackmail to Dean, he might have been able to cover up the whole mess.

"Dial kid," the cop said.

Adam frowned but dialed the number to Dad's current phone.

He could hear Dad's message immediately click over without ringing, confirming Adam's suspicions that Dad was out of cell range hunting whatever it was.

"Sir, this is Officer Reynolds down at the Greenbrier Police Station. I've got your boy Adam here with me. He's just fine, but he tried to do a little dine and dash over at the diner. He's called his brother to come and get him, but if you are able to stop by the station I'd appreciate it."

The officer left the phone number and address of the station before putting down the phone and looking over at Adam.

"You wanna try your brother again?"

Adam shrugged. He could call Dean all day. There was no guarantee he'd pick up. He was either down in the bottle or up some girl's skirt and either way he wouldn't answer the phone.

"Alright, well we'll give him a little while. Come on," the cop said standing up, "I've got work to do, so I can't be babysitting you all night."

He gently grabbed Adam's upper arm and Adam let himself be lifted from the seat and led away from the officer's desk.

They walked from what Adam knew was the police officers' bullpen down a quiet, empty back hallway. At the end of the hall there was a heavy door with a glass square insert and behind it, Adam could see a row of cells. His stomach clenched at the sight and he unconsciously pulled away from the officer.

"Now don't worry," he said tightening his hold, "You're the only one here right now and it's just until your brother or your dad comes to get you,"

Adam stiffened as the officer opened the door and shuffled him inside. He freaking hated being locked up. Hated being tied up. Caged. Any kind of restraint made Adam's whole body panic.

He took in several small shaky breaths as the officer led him to the first cell. Adam was surprised to see that it looked just like on television: thick grey metal bars, a tiny metal bench on one wall and a shiny metal toilet in the corner.

"In you go," the cop said, opening the door and ushering him inside.

Adam bit down on the wave of panic that rose again in his chest and closed his eyes momentarily, trying to get a hold of himself.

"You just wait here. I'll be back in a while and we can call your brother again," the cop said, shutting the bars behind him with a loud clank that echoed in the room. Adam didn't turn around as he listened to the man's keys jingle and the lock on the cell was turned and clicked home.

Reminding himself to breathe, Adam looked around the small cell and glanced back to watch the cop turn and leave. When the heavy door with the glass was closed Adam realized he was well and truly alone. Alone and locked in a cage.

Adam could feel the familiar feeling of panic rushing at him like the rising tide and he took a moment to try to calm down. The officer hadn't searched him so he still had his lock pick set and his silver knife. If he had to, Adam knew he could pick the lock and fight his way out of the police station. But that wasn't the smart move. He knew that. Right now he was a stupid kid being held until his daddy could come get him. If Adam were to pick the lock and slice and dice his way out of the station, he'd be all over the news as a crazed murdering teen.

No. He would sit. He would wait. Dean would eventually come for him.

Adam walked over to the small metal bench that was pushed up against the cement wall of the cell. He'd never been to jail before. Never been arrested. He probably should get used to it. He and Dad had talked about the possibility before. Dean had been arrested last year after being spotted breaking into a house when he was looking for a cursed object. Dad took the opportunity to educated Adam on the best way to deal with small-town beat cops and how to play the system to his advantage. Dean was able to walk away from the whole mess after he convinced the cops he was rushing a local frat and the breaking and entering was part of a pledge dare. Dad never said anything, but Adam could tell that he was proud that Dean was able to get himself out of the mess without Dad having to go in and pull the FBI card, which is what he'd told Adam was the next step. Dad didn't like having to use his fake FBI credentials to do anything except get information on a case. He always said it wasn't worth the risk.

Adam sat down heavily on the bench and leaned against the wall, wondering just how long he might be stuck here. It was Saturday night at 7 pm. Dean was probably already at a bar, already drunk and already eyeing the local merchandise. The chance that he'd check his phone and be able to come get his brother anytime soon was thin. Adam figured it would be Sunday at lunch before Dean sobered up enough to realize Adam hadn't been around. Jesus, Dad would kill Dean if he knew about any of this.

Not only would John Winchester be royally pissed at having to pick up his youngest from a police station, but Adam knew he'd be beyond livid at Dean's current state. Dad always talked about how important it was to be aware of your surroundings at all times, how critical it was that you keep your head clear so that nothing ever got the jump on you. Adam thought Dad's whole lecture was pretty hypocritical, given how often Dad drank himself to sleep. But since he'd learned the hard way that bringing up Dad's drinking ended with him not being able to sit for days, Adam kept his mouth shut. About Dad's drinking and about Dean's.

Adam sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. He felt like such a dumbass for getting caught. Dad had taught him better than his, Dean too. Being too hungry made him distracted. He vowed that next time he picked a place to dine and dash he wouldn't let himself get so hungry that he made mistakes. He'd have to be more careful about the whole situation if he was going to be able to keep it hidden. The last thing he wanted was for Dad to find out about Dean's drinking binges. Dad never minded letting Dean or even Sam have a beer after a hunt. Hell, Dean was 22 now and went out to bars regularly, on his own and with Dad. Although it had never been said, Adam instinctively knew that Dad wouldn't stand for the blackout- binge drinking that Dean was doing this week. Not only was it dangerous as a hunter, but as a father, there was no way he'd let it slide, no matter how torn up Dean was or how often Dad dealt with his own emotions in the same way.

Adam hoped Dean would get past whatever this was soon. He missed his brother. He missed both of them actually. But it was harder to sit by and watch Dean transform from the responsible, kind, older brother he'd come to know back into the standoffish, sullen asshole he'd first met when he was 12.

In the months since Sam left Adam and Dean had fought more often than they ever had before. They'd never realized just how important Sam's presence was to their relationship. Sam had told Adam before he left that he thought Adam and Dean were more alike than not, and that fact seemed to be kicking them both in the ass. Without Sam to mediate, the two most reckless Winchesters would argue until their fights became physical and wouldn't quit throwing punches until they saw blood. Unfortunately for Adam, he was still 8 years younger than Dean so it was usually his blood that was splattered across the motel rug.

Of course, most of the time Dean was still Dean so he felt pretty bad about roughing Adam up, even if he 'deserved it' (which he totally did not). So after a brawl, there would be a begrudging peace between them for a while. They tried to keep their fights from Dad, each knowing that while Dad supported sparring and practice fighting, he sure as hell drew the line at his boys beating the snot out of each other.

Adam stood up from the cold metal bench and started to wander around the cell, looking around at the other tan cement walls to see if there was a clock anywhere.

Of course there wasn't.

At least he wasn't hungry anymore, so that particular problem had been solved. He definitely had some bigger ones now though.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Adam couldn't tell if time without a clocked moved slower or faster, but he was betting on slower since it seemed to be forever before the cop who had picked him up from the restaurant came back.

"How you doing kid?" he asked, his keys jingling as he unlocked the cell door.

"Ok," Adam said, having jumped up from the bench the moment the officer was visible.

"Let's go try your brother again huh?" he said, returning his heavy hand to Adam's shoulder.

Adam was led back to the bullpen and again to the plain brown desk and chair. Again he was given the ugly beige phone and slowly dialed Dean's cell number.

And again it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And with each ring, Adam's heart sank a little more.

 _Come on Dean,_ he thought. _Come on!_

Adam needed Dean now. Actually really needed him. So many times Dean was there when Adam didn't even want him: hovering after school, shadowing him too close during a hunt. Why couldn't he be around now?

Adam didn't leave a message this time, hanging up the phone and looking up to the officer who was leaning against the desk.

"He didn't pick up," Adam said, trying to conceal the hurt and annoyance in his voice.

"Hmm…" the cop said, looking down at his watch. "It's almost shift change. I was really hoping to have you out of here before now."

Adam looked over at the clock on the wall, noting that it was nearly 10:30 at night. Yeah, there was no way he was gonna get in touch with his brother now.

The officer sighed, causing Adam to look back at him. Adam watched the cop's face as he looked around the bullpen, contemplating something.

"I guess we don't have a choice but to keep you here until someone shows," he said, looking down at Adam sadly.

Adam could feel the officer's opinion of him shifting. He was no longer 'normal-teen-with-bad-friends', but was becoming 'troubled-teen-with-no-one-to-look-out-for-him'. Great. Adam would have liked to keep the 'dumb-normal-kid' shtick going for as long as possible, because as easy as it was for him to play 'troubled-teen' the role hit too close to home and he really didn't wanna have to try to cry in front of this guy.

"Here," the cop said, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, "Write down your brother and your Dad's number and I'll have Charlie keep calling. He's on the overnights, so he'll come check on you too,"

"You mean I've gotta go back to that cell?" Adam asked, unable to hide the despair in his voice.

"Sorry kid, we don't really have anywhere else,"

"You could just let me go," Adam said, trying his hand, "I've learned my lesson. Really."

The officer looked down at him, tilting his head to study Adam. "Sorry kid, but I get the feeling you are on the edge of a bad road. So if spending the night here and talking to your father will keep you off it, that's what we are gonna do,"

"It was one mistake, sir. One. You can let me go. I promise I will pay the owner and work for him however much he wants. I won't go down a bad road," Adam tried, looking up at the man with the most innocent, pleading eyes he could manage.

"This is for your own good son," the cop said, taking Adam's arm and lifting him from the seat.

' _For your own good, son', jeez…that sounds familiar_ , Adam thought with a scowl.

 _A/N- Sorry for the long delay between chapters! Just waiting for inspiration to strike :) Hope you enjoyed this one- got a part 2 for this one shot in the works_... _who comes to get poor Adam? What happens if no one gets the message!?_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 23 Dine and Dash Part 2

/-/-/-/-/

"Morning Charlie!" Officer Reynolds said brightly as he walked into the station for his Sunday shift. He always looked forward to this shift. It wasn't his normal gig, but since Jerry had been out recovering from that heart attack, he'd stepped up to help cover. Sunday was always a pretty peaceful day around the city, not many people causing trouble, which made it an enjoyable and easy eight hours on the job.

"What time did that kid finally get outta here?" he asked, grabbing a stack of papers from his work mailbox and coming to stand near Charlie's desk.

"He's still here," the man replied.

"You're shitting me." Reynolds said, "Really?"

"Yeah, took him some donuts earlier," Charlie said, nodding back toward the cells.

"Damn it." Reynolds replied, putting down his papers.

Seemed like his suspicions were correct: this kid wasn't just 'dining and dashing' for fun. This kid was hungry. Reynolds had hoped that the kid's story about being new to town and taking on the dare was true, but really one look at him and he knew it wasn't. Second-hand clothes, barely clean, smelling like motor oil and hanging off him two sizes too big. Pale complexion, thin freckled skin, and scars peeking out from behind his too long sleeves, Reynolds wasn't surprised that no one answered when the kid called.

He walked over to his desk and opened the large file cabinet drawer, leafing through to find the contact information for the weekend operations for Child Protective Services. As much as he hated putting kids into the system, it would mean this kid could get some decent food and maybe be looked after a little bit. He seemed like a nice kid after all.

Grabbing the folder, he took it with him as he walked back to the cells to check on the kid. Peeking through the glass door before he turned the handle, he couldn't see Adam. Charlie said the kid was still here, right?

Opening the door quickly he strode into the room to examine the cell.

There, tucked up under the bench, wrapped up in a tight ball, with his winter coat over his head was the kid.

"Hey," he said gently.

Adam pulled the coat from his head and rolled over to face the officer. He'd gotten under the bench to try to get a break from the blinding overhead lighting in hopes of getting a little sleep. Why couldn't he have gotten arrested in a town that had beds in their cells?

"Charlie says he couldn't get anyone on the phone,"

"Yeah," Adam grumbled, rolling out from under the bench and standing up with a groan.

The officer stood outside the cell, a manila folder in his hands looking sadly at Adam.

"So…" he started and Adam felt dread rise in his belly, "We can give it a few more hours, but I'm gonna go ahead and put in a call to Child Protective Services,"

"What?" Adam asked in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Son," the officer said softly, "You and I both know it wasn't a dare that sent you into Ol' Don's yesterday. But listen, before I make this call, do you have anyone else? Your mom? Is she in the picture?"

"No," Adam replied softly, looking away from the officer.

"Ok. Well, I'll give them a call then, start the process,"

"You can't do that," Adam replied angrily, exhaustion fueling his temper, "It hasn't even been 24 hours yet!"

The cop stared back at him calmly, "I don't have to wait 24 hours son, not if it's in your best interest,"

"It's not!" Adam yelled furiously, "My dad is working. He'll be back. My brother is just being a dick! But I'm fine. Seriously. I don't need you to call them!"

"Son, I think you do," the officer said, looking over Adam sadly.

"I don't!" Adam snarled back, glaring at him.

The officer didn't reply but stared at him a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the heavy door with the glass.

"I'm fine man!" Adam yelled at the officer's back as he opened the door and walked out, leaving him alone again.

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck_.

How could thing go so epically, monumentally wrong? It was one meal. One lousy meal. And now he was staring down a confrontation with CPS?

Adam kicked at the bars of the cell before turning back and stomping over to the bench, sitting down heavily.

He wasn't going with CPS that was for damn sure. He hadn't stayed out of the system this long to get picked up for something so stupid. No. _Hell no._ Cops would pass him off to some caseworker and Adam would hit the bricks and be gone as fast as he could. He'd figure it out from there, but he sure as shit wasn't going to some juvy halfway house

As he sat staring at the blank walls of the jail cell, he slowly ran his hand over the lock pick set hidden on the inside of his coat. He didn't move, afraid of the possibility of cameras in the room, but allowed himself to shift slightly to feel the comforting pressure of his silver knife against his leg.

He was getting out of here. One way or another.

/-/-/-/-/-/

Several minutes or hours later (he still wasn't sure on time without a clock), Adam was still sitting in the cell on the metal bench, finalizing his escape plan. He'd examined the lock on the cell and discovered that he couldn't pick it from the angle he was at. He'd have to wait until one of the officers came for him. But that was ok. He'd use the trust he'd developed with Officer Reynolds to make sure he was able to walk out of the cell without being cuffed. Once out, Adam figured he'd probably be taken to some small room to be interviewed by CPS. That was how it always happened on tv anyway. All it would take from there was getting alone for enough time to get away. Maybe a bathroom break and he could find a window, or maybe asking for something to drink would give him enough time to sneak off.

Adam was still working through the final details of his plan when the heavy door to the room clicked and he glanced up expecting to see Officer Reynolds.

Even with a quick glance, he immediately recognized the shadow of the man coming through the door and he jumped up off the metal bench.

"Dad!" Adam shouted in shock.

Dad walked slowly into the room. His expression grim but controlled, his heavy steps striking a fear into Adam that he hadn't anticipated.

"Dad! I…I can explain…" Adam stuttered out, but a slow discouraging nod from his father caused the words to die in his throat.

Officer Reynolds stepped in front of Dad and with a quick jingle of his keys the door to the cell was unlocked and opened.

Adam swallowed uncertainly, happy that he was now most likely free of the whole mess with the local pd, but knowing that he was in a whole different mess now that Dad was involved.

Adam stepped forward and Dad reached out and gently put a hand on the back of his head.

"You're ok?" he asked, studying his son.

"Yes sir," Adam responded quietly with a nod.

Dad nodded in return and looked over to Officer Reynolds.

"I'm sorry for the trouble my son has caused," he said calmly, surprising Adam with the sincerity of his words. "We'll stop by the deli today and repay the owner,"

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Officer Reynolds said, adjusting his gear belt restlessly under Dad's serious gaze.

Dad nodded and put a hand on Adam's shoulder, preparing to leave.

"Uh sir?" the officer started nervously.

Adam could never get enough of how grown men cowed in his father's presence. John Winchester was a force of nature and it was nice to know that Adam wasn't the only one intimidated by him.

"Sir, you should know I've put in a call to CPS," Officer Reynolds said. "Protocol, you know?"

Adam looked up at his father, awaiting his response, knowing that inside Dad was absolutely furious to find out that Adam had almost let himself be thrown into the system. It was bad enough that the cop knew both their real names and real information, but to include CPS in the situation was a true danger. Adam was still under age and despite Dad's numerous skills and constant running, there was still a chance that Adam could be taken away from them.

Dad's poker face was perfect however and none of the internal panic he was probably feeling showed at all.

"I understand officer. You're just doing your job. I appreciate you looking after my boy for me. I'll be expecting their call,"

 _Sure,_ Adam thought, knowing that they'd all be ditching their phones and hitting the highway tonight, trying to put distance between themselves and the disaster Adam had created.

"Thank you for being understanding about this Sir, we only want what's best for Adam," the officer replied, nodding down at Adam.

"Of course," Dad agreed, "And I apologize again for the trouble he's caused. Adam?" Dad said, squeezing his shoulder painfully.

Adam knew exactly what was expected of him, "Yes sir, I'm very sorry for the trouble and I appreciate you looking after me. It won't happen again,"

Officer Reynolds nodded down at him and Adam felt him searching for any reason that Adam shouldn't be allowed to go with his Dad. Adam knew the whole situation didn't look great, but Dad had shown up and he looked like a normal father: wearing clean jeans and a flannel shirt under a heavy black coat. He wasn't covered in blood or bruises like some of the other times when he returned from a hunt.

Dad squeezed his shoulder again as Officer Reynolds turned and they followed him out of the cells and back toward the bullpen of the station.

"Thank you for coming Mr. Winchester," the officer said, holding out a hand.

Dad nodded and shook the officer's hand, "Thank you again, officer. Come on, son."

Adam's stomach was rolling with dread and fear and embarrassment as they walked out of the police station into the cold January weather, Dad's fingers digging into the shoulder of Adam's coat.

"I ought to belt you right here in the parking lot," Dad said quietly through clenched teeth as they approached his truck.

Adam swallowed nervously.

Dad led him around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door.

"In." he said firmly.

Adam obediently climbed into the cab, wishing there was some excuse he could come up with that would calm Dad down and save his ass.

Dad slammed the truck door and Adam watched in the mirror as he walked around to the driver's side, taking pains to walk slowly and calmly.

As he climbed into the truck and shut to door Adam thought maybe now was a good time to make his case.

"Dad… I..." he started.

"Not a word boy. Not a word," he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he started the truck with a rumble.

Adam watched his father covertly as they drove down the slushy streets back toward their motel of the week. It was hard to tell just how mad Dad was. He was stone cold sober, so that was a good thing Adam guessed, but he was also doing that thing where he clenched and unclenched his fists as he drove and Adam knew from experience that was a bad sign.

Suddenly Dad pulled off the road, down to a side street and into an empty gravel lot in front of an abandoned barn.

 _Oh shit._

Dad turned the truck off and Adam chewed his bottom lip as his stomach rolled. Shit, he was seriously in for it.

"Alright," Dad said, trying to control the anger in his voice, "Let's hear it."

Adam's mouth suddenly went dry and he forgot how to speak. Why did he always freak out like this when he got put on the spot?

"I… uh… I uh…"

"Adam." Dad said darkly, making it clear that Adam better figure out how to talk again and do it soon.

"Ok, uh… it was..."

Crap. He hadn't really thought about having to explain this to Dad. What the fuck was he gonna say? All that time sitting in a cell and yet figuring out what to tell Dad never even occurred to him. Dean was right he was a dumbass.

He didn't wanna tell Dad the truth, that would just get Dean in trouble. As much as Dean probably deserved the kick in the ass, Adam didn't wanna be the one to throw him under the bus.

Sam would never do that.

"It was a dare," Adam spit out finally, looking down into the floorboard as the lie tumbled out of his mouth.

Adam hoped his own poker face was as good as his father's because if Dad were to find out he got arrested and then lied to him about the reason, Adam wouldn't be able to sit for a month.

"A dare?" Dad asked infuriated, "A fucking dare?"

Adam licked his lips in trepidation and continued to stare at the floor, waiting for the storm of Dad's rage to blow over.

"Do you know what you just did?" he asked, "You know our rules about keeping a low profile. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Well I didn't think I'd get caught," Adam mumbled to the floor.

"No shit," Dad snapped. "Adam, how could you be so stupid? I _know_ you aren't this stupid son, so why would you put yourself in that situation? You know what the risks are!"

Adam just shrugged. He didn't wanna hear Dad lecture him anymore. He just wanted to get on with the punishment and get it over with.

Part of Adam really wanted to tell Dad the truth, to admit that he was just _so_ hungry. Hungry enough that it seemed worth the risk. That he couldn't think of a better, safer option and that he was past the point of being able to wait for a better choice. The thought of the unfairness of the whole situation made Adam mad, furious even.

"If you're gonna belt me, can we just get it over with?" Adam sneered, crossing his arms defiantly.

Dad looked briefly taken aback by Adam's surly attitude, but quickly recovered.

"Yeah we can." he said threateningly, "I was gonna let you wait until we were back at the motel so we didn't both freeze our asses off, but since you've decided you're so eager I figure hell, why not here and there?"

Adam breath caught and he looked at his father in shock. Two? Two whippings?

Dad opened his truck door, "Get out,"

Adam watched as Dad slid out of the truck and stood in the open door, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops.

"Now Adam," he said menacingly.

Adam's entire body was clenched tightly in dread and he had to force himself to comply with his father's orders. With weak knees, he opened the door and walked around to the back of the truck, where Dad was putting down the tailgate.

"You should know I had to leave the hunt early for this," he said, letting the tailgate slam down with a heavy thud, "Your mistake isn't just costing you, Adam."

 _Oh fuck._

No wonder Dad was so pissed. It was one thing for Adam to be stupid, but it was an entirely different thing for people's lives to be at risk because of his stupidity.

"Turn around," Dad said, nodding to the lowered tailgate as he folded over the belt in his hands, "Don't move,"

Adam felt sobs rising in his chest. Fear, dread, embarrassment, guilt. Damn this whole day. With his hands firmly pressed into the frozen tailgate, Adam tried to still his shaking legs as he waited for the first strike. 14, he reminded himself. 14.

The cracking sound of leather was deafening against the cold still of winter and the lash pushed a silent gasp from Adam's throat. He wasn't gonna cry. He wasn't. He was gonna be tough and silent, just like Sam. If Sam could lie and take beatings, so could Adam. He could. He would.

There was a long pause and Adam closed his eyes waiting on the next hit. Dad was gonna draw this one out. He was gonna take his time, let them freeze to death out here in the icy January winter of New Jersey, while Adam got to think about what he did between each bite of the belt.

Just before Adam could huff in annoyance the next hit came, landing solidly and pushing him into the truck. Another was right behind it and Adam scrunched his eyes shut against the white-hot blooming pain.

There was silence again, only the sounds of Adam's ragged breathing between them. Adam could feel his father's presence behind him, standing like a stone, fury radiating off him.

Adam didn't move, only licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek, hating the anticipation of pain.

Finally, the belt came down again, three strokes in a row this time, evenly spaced across his backside and leaving Adam silently screaming into the winter air. Dad stopped again, letting Adam get his breath. Tears were pricking the corners of his eyes and Adam wondered how he was ever gonna get through another whipping back at the motel.

The next four lashes where again evenly spaced and landed soundly. Dad wasn't playing around. Holding in his tears and trying to breathe through strangled breaths Adam laid his forehead down onto the cold tailgate of the truck. He wasn't gonna make it. He wasn't gonna be able to be strong like Sam.

Two more strikes and Adam's tears flowed, falling hotly from his eyes and landing gently against the icy black tailgate.

Another heavy hit and Adam cried out in pain, hating himself for his weakness.

"Please Dad!" he begged, just as the next lash came down hard against him.

Dad was silent behind him, but Adam could still feel the anger radiating from him.

"Stand up Adam," he said, "We're done for now,"

Adam cried harder at his words, snot filling his nose and dread rushing through his veins.

"Stand up Adam," Dad commanded again, his voice firm but calm.

Adam turned his puffy, snot covered face into the tailgate for just a moment more, relishing in the cold steel, before pushing his hands against it to stand up.

"Get in the truck," Dad ordered, as he threaded his belt back through the loops of his jeans.

Adam swallowed and obeyed, pushing away from the truck, walking on shaky weak legs back to the driver's side. This wasn't the first time he'd been laid out against the tailgate of the truck, but somehow it seemed to get worse each time.

Still sobbing and hiccupping, Adam opened the door and hesitated. He did not want to sit. He didn't want to sit down ever again in fact. And shit, after tonight at the motel, he might never be able to.

Adam heard Dad's door open across the cab and he whimpered, knowing that he had to get in and sit down or else face his father's wrath again for disobedience.

Swallowing hard, Adam made himself put one leg into the cab and quickly sat down on the bench seat, moaning as the aching throb transformed once more into a piercing pain.

Dad was silent as he got into the cab and didn't acknowledge Adam's quiet crying.

Adam didn't look at him either. He didn't want to. Dad was still mad. Mad enough that Adam was gonna get another round when they got back to the motel.

"You wanna tell me where your brother is in all this?" Dad asked once they had pulled back into the main road.

Adam was quiet. He was tempted to say "No sir," but that was more disrespect then he was willing to risk at this point.

"Adam?" Dad asked again, his tone telling Adam he better answer with something.

But what the hell was Adam gonna say? There wasn't any excuse as to why Dean hadn't already come to pick Adam up from the police station. Surely Officer Reynolds had told Dad how many times they'd called his brother. Maybe Dad was thinking the worst: that something had happened to Dean. As far as Dad knew that would be the only reason his first-born would ever shirk his responsibility to his brother.

"I don't know sir," Adam said, his voice still thick with tears, "He was around Saturday before I went out,"

Adam prayed the vague answer would be enough for his father and that he wouldn't be pushed further on the subject, he honestly didn't think he could come up with a good lie right now.

Dad scowled and pushed down the accelerator, picking up speed along the back road.

-/-/-/-/-/

By the time they reached the motel, Adam had regained control of himself, although both his head and his backside hurt like a bitch.

As they pulled toward the parking lot Adam could clearly see Dean's beloved Impala sitting parked in front of their motel room and he glanced across the cab to see confusion growing on his father's face. Dad whipped the truck into the parking spot beside the Impala and jumped out, slamming the door and hurrying toward the room not waiting for Adam to follow.

Adam was in no rush to walk into that room, knowing exactly what his father was likely to find. He watched from the cab of the truck as Dad fumbled for his key as he walked and in one swift movement unlocked the door and pushed it opened hard enough that it bounced off the wall behind it.

"Dean!" Dad called out, rushing into the room.

As much as Adam wasn't looking forward to whatever turmoil was going on in that room he figured he better man up and go in. With a deep breath of preparation, he opened the truck door and gently jumped out down, wincing with every step as he walked toward the open motel room door.

Adam peered into the room before entering, catching sight of a scene that in any other situation would have caused him to laugh his ass off.

The fuzzy motel television was blaring the Golden Girls theme and Dean was passed out on one of the motel beds, slumped against the flimsy fake wooden headboard, surrounded by empty beer cans, drooling and snoring, his jeans unbuttoned and his flannel shirt haphazardly thrown on, as if he'd gone to take a piss and hadn't bothered to readjust himself.

"Dean! Dean!" Dad said, shaking him.

"Huh? Dean mumbled roughly, waking up in confusion.

"Son?" Dad asked, seemingly unable to comprehend the scene in front of him.

"Dad? What? What 'shew doing here?" Dean mumbled and Adam cringed at his slurred speech.

Adam finally slid into the room, gently closing the door behind him hoping not to attract any attention.

"What the hell?" Dad whispered, grabbing Dean's upper arm and pulling him up to sit against the headboard as he glanced around at the assortment of empty beer cans littering the bed.

"How fucking drunk are you boy?" Dad growled, glaring down at Dean.

Dean coughed self-consciously; roughly running his hand over his face in a move Adam knew was his way of trying to immediately sober up.

"I'm not drunk," he said, squeezing his eyes closed tightly, trying to make the room stop spinning.

"Goddamnit boy," Dad said lowly.

"Whut's going on?" Dean asked, his speech still garbled despite his best efforts.

"What's going on is that I just picked up your little brother from the police station!"

"Sam?" Dean asked automatically, and words were like knives through Adam's chest.

"Adam." Dad ground out. "Did you not get any of the calls?"

"Uh…." Dean stuttered, feeling around on the bed for his phone, shoving away empty cans, making others fall on to the floor.

"Goddammit," Dad said again and Adam could feel his rage brewing.

Dad sneered at Dean and stepped back, assessing the disarray of the motel room.

"What the _fuck_ is this?" he snarled, waving his arm around the disheveled motel room.

Adam bit his lip as he followed his father's eyes around the room. Yeah, it was a disaster: both beds unmade, towels hanging off doorknobs, clothes spilling out of drawers, trash all over the floor, dirty clothing laying around carelessly and empty beer cans littering the table between the beds as well as the entire bed Dean was sitting on. Dad never let them live like this. He was military in all things, including bed making and personal hygiene. Everything has a place and everything in its place, he always said. Even when Adam first came to live when them and thought nothing of throwing his shoes wherever in the motel room, he was quickly corrected. Dad never made them 'clean' the motel rooms or anything like that, but they were always expected to keep track of all their crap and keep the room picked up and the beds made. Somewhere along the line after Sam left though, Adam and Dean both stopped caring about Dad's motel room rules while he was gone and mutually agreed to ignore their mess and only do a quick and dirty purge right before Dad returned.

"Is this what happens when I leave?" Dad yelled at Dean.

"Not all the time…" Adam said quietly, immediately wishing he hadn't when Dad's fury turned on him.

"You want that second whipping now?" Dad spat out, pointing at Adam.

Adam shook his head in wide-eyed fear.

"Dad…" Dean said, quickly sobering and realizing the severity of the situation, "Look, this…"

"Goddammit Dean!" Dad yelled, beginning to pace the room, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Dean froze on the bed at their father's words, guilt and shame flooding his reddening face.

"I trusted you Dean!" Dad said, not looking at his oldest son as he paced the room, kicking at trash and discarded clothing on the floor, "You are supposed to be responsible! Supposed to be the one I can count on!"

"I am, sir," Dean mumbled brokenly, sitting up fully and swinging his legs to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched in guilt.

"Oh, you are?" Dad asked suddenly, spinning back toward Dean and stalking toward him, "You are? Then why don't you tell me how many missed calls are on your cell phone? Why don't you tell me what the hell you were doing while your brother was out, _alone_ , getting arrested?"

Dean didn't look up from the floor, only squeezed his eyes shut at the pain of his father's accusing words.

Dad stared at him a moment, eyes narrowing in anger. Adam's pulse began to climb in fear of what their father might do. Was he gonna punch Dean? Throw him down on the bed and beat him? Whatever it was, Adam feared that Dean would willingly allow it, all in hopes that he would be able to look his father in the eye again.

"Keys." Dad said, leaning into Dean.

Adam felt Dean's pause of surprise, but instantly his brother's hand was in his pocket digging out the car keys and handing them over to their father.

"Adam," Dad said, turning slightly and tossing the keys.

Despite his surprise, Adam stepped forward and caught the keys gently as if he'd been expecting the move.

"Both of you pack your shit. We hit the road in 10 minutes." Dad growled toward Dean.

Dad looked away from Dean for a moment to glance at Adam to make sure his order was understood, then stomped toward the door, making Adam freeze in fear as he walked past.

As the motel door closed with a slam Adam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Both brothers were silent and didn't move until Adam awkwardly cleared his throat, earning a heated glare from Dean.

Adam sneered back in return and moved to start to gather up his clothing.

"You got arrested?" Dean asked, still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"Yeah…" Adam replied, not looking at his brother as he grabbed his jeans and shoes from under the other bed.

"You hurt?" Dean asked from behind him.

Adam paused for a moment thinking about the dull ache of his backside but didn't turn around.

"No."

"Good."

They were both silent as they packed their bags, finishing and coming to stand out in front of the two Winchester vehicles within the ten minutes their father demanded.

"Adam," Dad said, walking up from the back of the truck where he'd most likely been leaning on the tailgate trying to control his temper, "You'll drive the Impala. Keep it under the speed limit and don't tailgate my ass when you follow alright?'

Adam nodded in return, wishing he felt the excitement he'd normally feel about the opportunity to drive the Impala. Dean had taught him to drive on the car when he was 12, but much to his disappointment the entire family seemed to have agreed that Adam's driving should be reserved for emergency situations only. Despite numerous arguments on cross-country drives, Adam had only been allowed to drive the beauty a handful of times and only then under strict supervision, with Dean hovering over him the entire time telling him not to ride the brakes.

"Dean," Dad said lowly, causing both Adam and Dean to look up him.

"If I thought it would do any good I'd belt your ass before we leave and let you ride on it for 8 or 10 hours, but seeing as you're still piss ass drunk, it'll have to wait. And as much as I want to have you ride with me, so I can hear the full story of what the _hell_ has been going on, I don't want Adam alone. Although I'm not even sure you're useful at this point,"

Adam watched Dad's unnecessarily cruel words hit Dean like a punch and his brother winced.

Dad gave Dean another angry, disappointed glare before turning to Adam, "Keep it between the ditches boy," he said.

"Yes sir," Adam replied with a nod.

Dad turned on his heels and Dean and Adam moved as well, trying to ignore the strangeness of Adam walking around to the driver's side and sliding in behind the wheel as Dean sat shotgun.

"So…uh…driver picks the music right?" Adam asked casually, trying to lighten the mood.

Dean just stared back at him from across the car, doing a perfect impression of Sam's 'bitch face' as he himself had so eloquently nicknamed.

"Yeah…ok…" Adam said, turning the key and momentarily relishing in the hearty rumble of the Impala's engine.

Adam spared another glance at his older brother before putting the car into reverse, hoping to see Dean blatantly judging his every movement as he drove, but instead, Dean had slumped down into the seat and was leaning against the door, looking despondently out the window.

Jeez, and he teased Sammy about being grumpy.

Adam bit back a sigh as he shifted gears and focused on following the taillights of Dad's truck. He tried not to worry about Dean; his brother would bounce back from this (right? He would right?) and anyway, Adam had his own eight to ten hours of driving on a sore ass to look forward to, not to mention praying that Dad wouldn't collect on his earlier threat of a second punishment.

 _More fun times with the Winchesters,_ Adam thought sourly to himself.

/-/-/-/-/-/

They didn't speak as they drove, each silently staring at the winding back roads Dad chose to take them on, knowing that the faster highways and interstates would be too dangerous for Adam to drive on, a risk they couldn't take when they were already fleeing from local police.

Dean was sitting shotgun. Freaking shotgun. Forced to watch as his baby brother drove his beautiful baby of a car, riding the brakes the entire time. Dean shook his head. He deserved it. Hell, he deserved a lot more than this particular form of torture. Shit, he half wished Dad would have belted him in the parking lot before they hit the road. It'd be embarrassing and painful as hell sure, but it might have gone a little ways toward making him feel better.

He sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window, closing his eyes momentarily. He wanted to go to sleep so badly. He also wanted to throw up, but he wasn't gonna let himself do that either. He'd made this mess, goddammit and he was gonna suffer through it.

God, he was an asshole. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd fucked up his relationship with Sam over the whole leaving for college thing, he was well on his way to fucking up things with Adam too.

He knew he'd been doing it too, which was the worst part. He could see himself prodding at Adam, teasing him with direct and vicious jabs, egging him on to fight for any stupid reason. It wasn't hard to get the kid started either. He had enough Winchester in him that it only took a few well-placed taunts and the kid was off and swinging the hard right hooks that Dean had taught him. He knew it wasn't fair of him to keep riling Adam up, but all the hurt, confusion and pain had left him spinning and filled with a bubbling fury he didn't really understand. He needed to go and hunt, gank some ghost assholes or something…kill something, but of course, he was still supposed to be taking care of the kid.

Fucking great job he was doing at that.

The rage and misery that was simmering in him most of the time these days was part of the reason he'd started with the six packs. He needed to mellow out. He didn't drink the hard stuff like Dad did. He didn't wanna start down that road. But he needed to chill the hell out or he was gonna knock Adam's freaking teeth out the next time the kid mouthed off at him.

Dean clenched his fists as a wave of nausea rolled through him as Adam slowed around a wide curve in the road.

He sighed as it passed, swallowing the saliva that had developed in his mouth. Stealing a glance across the smooth leather seats, Dean studied his youngest brother.

Adam was suffering too, he realized looking at the kid. Not as deeply maybe, and not in the same way, Dean rationalized, but he sure as hell was suffering. The kid was pale, eyes a little too sunken and freckles standing out across his nose. Shit, he was too skinny.

 _Fuck_ , Dean thought to himself with a sudden awareness…

 _No._

"Did you get arrested for stealing food?" he asked accusingly, unable to keep the anger and irritation from his voice.

Adam glared at him for only a second before looking back to the road, "What do you care?" he mumbled.

Dean cursed himself. What kinda fucking brother doesn't know his little brother is stealing food? What kinda fucking situation had he gotten them in? He distantly remembered Adam asking a long time ago about taking peanut butter or something from a little mom and pop market, but Dean had told him how stupid it was. He knew first hand how close those owners watched their shelves and how easy it was to get caught.

Dean tried to remember the last time he'd brought back dinner or groceries for them.

He remembered grabbing the six packs….

He must have gotten some other stuff too right?

 _Right?_

He didn't just leave Adam with nothing.

No.

Wait.

Fuck, did he?

Fuck.

Had Dean really been so caught up in his personal misery that he didn't bring home food for Adam? Dean wracked his brain to think of the last time he brought back meals for them and he realized it had been since before Dad left. He held it together while Dad was around, but the minute Dad hit the road for the hunt all Dean had been able to think about was getting away and getting a break. He hit the bars, hit up the ladies and just tried to get out of his head for a little while. He hadn't even really thought about what Adam was doing. Its not like he was gone that long though, one night or two maybe…

But that was just this time, he reminded himself.

Dean kicked himself again. He'd been hiding in bars and six packs on and off for months now. He couldn't let Dad see what a mess he was. He needed to be strong. But he also needed to get away.

So how long had Adam been doing this? Weeks? Months?

Had Dean really failed his brother so badly?

Another glance into Adam's miserable, young face gave Dean every answer he needed. He had failed Adam. Just like he'd failed Sam. He was a useless, worthless excuse for a brother.

"Kid…" Dean started softly, trying to find the words to start asking for the forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve.

"Don't yell at me Dean!" Adam shot back, anticipating the fight that Dean would have normally been searching for, "I've got enough to deal with. I don't need your shit too!"

The anger that Dean would have ordinarily felt rise up at Adam's belligerent tone was gone, replaced by a deep self-disgust that caused Dean to physically recoil from his little brother's words.

There was nothing he could say, nothing that would even begin to apologize for the damage that Dean had inflicted on his brother over the past few months. Sorry would never be enough. Outside of a few weeks of relative normalcy, Dean had not only abandoned his brother, but also neglected his basic needs, forcing Adam into doing things that Dean had always cautioned against. And all that blame landed directly at Dean's feet.

If he'd been paying attention, taking care of his brother the way he was supposed to, the way he knew how to, Adam would have never been arrested, never been out stealing food or doing God knows what else to fend off hunger.

 _Fuck_ , Dean thought as panic choked him, _please let it only be stealing._

He wanted to ask. To make sure Adam was ok. Make sure that he wasn't damaged beyond repair due to Dean's selfishness and carelessness, but his mouth was dry. Just like the apologies twisting around in his throat, the questions stole his breath and the fear silenced him.

Dean stared into the Impala's glossy side mirror and took in his own miserable reflection: sallow skin, scraggly beard coming in, red and unfocused eyes, he didn't look a hell of a lot better than Adam did.

 _Sam would hate this._

The thought shocked Dean. He tried not to think of Sam in that way, that 'what-he-would-have-wanted-dead-guy' kinda way. It was just wrong. Sam wasn't dead. He was just gone.

Gone. Not part of the family. Not safe. But not dead at least.

Dean huffed quietly, forcing himself to stop thinking about Sam. Sam was gone. Adam was here. And Dean needed to get it together.

He was better when he was looking out for someone anyway, he figured. That's who he was. Big brother. That's who he was gonna be again, he vowed. Adam deserved to have the same great big brother that Sam got. The guy that went to bat for him against Dad, that took his side, took care of him and taught him everything he knew.

With any luck, Adam wouldn't abandon everything Dean gave him in favor of some stupid fucking apple pie life.

Adam was a different kid, Dean reminded himself. Adam had seen the true depth of evil and lost painfully to it in the same way that Dean had. Sam had lost as well, of course, but not in the same visceral way that both Dean and Adam had. Something like that changes a person.

Anyway, Dean thought shaking his head gently then regretting the move when it sent another lingering wave of nausea through him, he was gonna do better and be better. Adam was gonna get more than a drunk ass for a brother, that was for damn sure. Starting with Dean not commenting on how freaking much this kid was killing the brakes on his baby….

/-/-/-/-

A/N- Sorry to everyone who got the update alert but didn't actually get the chapter! I hope everything is fixed now! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Dine and Dash Tag

As John turned away, winding the worn belt back through the loops of his jeans, he swallowed a sob that threatened to burst forth from him.

"Take care of your brother," he choked out, not looking at them, trying to maintain control of his voice, trying not to regret what he'd just done.

/-/-/-/-/

One hour into their drive, John was furious.

Three hours in, he was pissed.

Five hours in and he'd calmed down enough that he was just plain angry.

John glanced into the rearview mirror; habitually keeping an eye on the sleek black car that was following him. He could see Adam in the driver's seat, both hands on the wheel, sitting up straight, deep in concentration on his task. Dean, however, was slumped sullenly on the passenger side door leaning his head against the windowpane, scowling angrily at the passing scenery.

John gripped the steering wheel of his truck tightly, trying to get a hold on his temper. God, he wanted to kick that kid's ass right about now.

What the hell was wrong with that boy? Dean had never acted like this before. John was willing to admit that his oldest could be reckless sometimes, but never when it came to anything important, especially family. That boy understood the importance of family, more than anyone else. He understood the importance of keeping each other safe in their world. At least John thought he did.

John took a deep breath and sighed loudly, struggling to think logically through his anger with his son. His thoughts had been swirling in a mad rage since they pulled out of the motel and he knew he needed to focus and analyze the situation so he could figure out what in the hell he was gonna do with his wayward sons.

If he was willing to admit it, deep down he knew what was wrong with Dean. It was the same thing that was wrong with him. The same pain they had each been silently suffering since July.

Since Sam left.

Only Adam, young, naïve Adam had been bold enough to bring it up and he'd paid for it.

"What's your problem?" Adam had snapped at Dean few months back while the two were bickering one night in a room outside a small town in Virginia.

"You're my fucking problem," Dean had growled in return.

"No! I'm not!" Adam had quipped back smartly, "Sam's your fucking problem so just…"

"Shut the hell up kid," Dean shot back threateningly.

"Boys," John had warned, keeping a close eye on the escalating situation.

While Dean and Adam's relationship had never seemed as strong as the bond that had formed between Sam and Adam, since their middle brother departed the older and younger Winchester boys seemed determined to take their pain out on each other.

"No really! What's your problem, huh? He just went to college. People do that shit all the time. You both act he died!" Adam had snapped, staring accusingly across the room at John as the last sentence tumbled from his lips.

Dean was up in a flash, rushing Adam before the all the words had even left his brother's mouth. John raced across the small room to break up the fight as it started, simultaneously grabbing Adam by the upper arm and fisting a hand in the collar of Dean's shirt to pull him away from his brother.

"No!" he shouted, pulling the two apart. "You don't fight your brother!" he yelled, keeping them at arm's length. "Dean, go outside and cool off! Adam take a seat," he'd said, shoving Adam harder than necessary onto the motel bed.

And that was just in the first month of Sam being gone, John thought sourly.

John sighed deeply at the memory and roughly ran a hand over his face, pausing to massage his temples. He was exhausted. He was pissed. He was depressed. And he was an adult. It shouldn't have surprised him that his two teenage sons were a mess as well.

He gripped the wheel tightly again, focusing for a moment on the feel of the leather under his fingers, trying to ground himself and begin to organize his thoughts. He had to do something for Dean and Adam. He was still furious with them both, for their stupidity, their carelessness, their selfishness and general neglect. He'd taught them better. When the cards are down you don't tuck and run, you man up, fight through the pain and move forward. Always forward. You never give up and you never give in.

It took John several hours and several hundred miles to come up with a somewhat workable solution the problem with his boys. By that time his anger had cooled to a low simmer and he felt ready to harden himself to what he'd need to do.

/-/-/-/

They drove late into the night, stopping only for fuel when the gas-guzzlers that made up the Winchester fleet demanded it. Each quickly grabbing gas station snacks and large tumblers of piss poor coffee to fill them up and keep them going until the next stop.

It was past midnight when John finally felt safe enough to stop for the night, sure that they were far enough away from any potential CPS danger that might be following his youngest son. He chose another no name, off the beaten path motel room for the extra security and the knowledge that in this part of the country and in this low rent of a place, no one would question the sounds of the discipline that would soon echo around the rented room.

He followed them in from the parking lot, their slow shuffling steps evidence of their exhaustion. John was exhausted too, wishing he didn't have to do what he was about to do; wracking his brain to be sure there wasn't another option that he'd missed. God, how he wished a stern conversation could have been enough

It wouldn't have been though.

He knew his boys. He knew them better than they knew themselves most times. He'd thought long and hard over the past several hours about what to do for them, how to help them. They both needed to be punished. Not only did they expect it, but it was also one of the few rigid structures of their family and John understood that importance.

Adam had already been punished once, justifiably, for being stupid enough to try to 'dine and dash' and then stupidly being caught. As far as John was concerned the kid has paid his debt on that front and all was forgiven. What was not forgiven, however, was Adam's clear omission of his brother's state. John had directly asked his boy where Dean was during Adam's little debacle with the police and the kid had sat right there and said nothing. While part of him admired his youngest son's dedication to protect his brother, the bigger part of John realized how dangerous the secret he was keeping could become. After Sam, John would have thought that Adam understood just how threatening secrets were to their family.

Dean had his own retribution coming his way for a long list of transgressions, of which John was sure the boy was well aware.

John watched the back of their heads as the boys tossed their duffles and claimed their motel beds for the night. Even from behind, John could see the weight that sat on his oldest boy's shoulders and a deep sadness tore at John's heart. He'd always been able to count on Dean. The boy was John's partner in so many things, more of an equal then Sam or Adam could have ever been considered. And although John had often lamented his own role in making Dean as mature and responsible as he was, it had become one of his son's defining features and had come in handy more often than not.

"Front and center," he called out steadily, watching as each boy straightened immediately at his tone.

They turned and moved to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of him, Dean looking directly forward past John and Adam looking down, examining the carpet.

"You both got something coming to you," he said, looking at each of them pointedly, "Do you know why?"

"Yes sir," they responded in unison, Dean's voice clear and unhurried, Adam's a soft mumble.

"Adam?"

John watched as Adam swallowed nervously before answering, "Cause I mouthed off in the car."

John paused for a moment, studying his youngest son.

"You're right that you need to watch your attitude boy. It's gotten you in more trouble lately then I think you can handle. But you're getting punished again, right now, because you lied to me."

Adam, who had been staring at the floor in shame, looked up at him in surprised confusion.

"I asked you where your brother was when you called him from the police station. You knew exactly where he was and what was going on and you were trying to hide it from me,"

Adam had the audacity to stare back at John, resentment growing in his young eyes.

"We don't keep secrets in this family boy," John said seriously.

Adam scowled back at him for a moment before looking away and John could read the boy's thoughts as clearly as if they were written across his forehead:

 _Liar._

John let himself absorb his son's silent hatred, filing it away with the other feelings of hurt and disappointment he'd seen in each of his son's eyes over the years.

"Dean?"

"I know, Sir," Dean said, standing straight and looking his father directly in the eyes as he'd been taught to do, "I know everything I did wrong. I've got no excuse for it and I apologize, to you and to Adam,"

John knew his boy recognized what'd he done wrong. He admired that Dean was trying to be an adult, offering up his own admission of his wrongdoing, but John needed more than that.

This situation had become more then just Dean missing Sam and drinking away his feelings, more than just his disregard for his responsibilities. At the core, John could see that even after so long, Dean still didn't feel truly connected to Adam. Maybe they would never be connected in the way that Sam and Dean were, two pieces who seemed to make the other whole, but John recognized that something needed to change.

Dean had grown up as a caretaker, a nurturer, and protector. The role had given his son focus and purpose. John liked to think that it was just Dean's nature, more than their unusual lifestyle that had made his son this way, but he knew that was likely not the case. Regardless, part of what made Dean Dean was his ability to care for others. Something he seemed to have thought he'd lost when Sam took off.

And Adam. Poor Adam. That kid was starving for loving attention. John could see after growing up with a mother like Kate, his own military, non-nonsense style of detachment parenting was hard on Adam. Sam had been there for his younger brother, taking him under his wing when Dean wouldn't, or couldn't, when Adam had first arrived, but since Sam left Adam had been floundering.

John had thought that Adam and Dean had bonded, become brothers like Sam and Adam did over the years they were together, but Dean's unadulterated neglect of his little brother made it clear that was not the case. John knew without asking that Dean would have never let Sam get arrested. Whatever had taken place between Adam and Dean that lead to the younger boy ending up in a police station would have never happened between Dean and Sam.

"You do?" John questioned bringing himself back to the situation and scrutinizing Dean carefully.

"Yes sir," Dean replied flatly and John could tell that Dean had put on his mask of submissive neutrality. The boy knew his role. He knew how to play it perfectly. He'd been trained well and nothing John could say now would make it past that perfect façade of obedience.

"Fine." John said firmly, "Turn around. Shirts off. On your knees,"

John glanced over at his youngest to see tears welling up in Adam's eyes as he turned away from his father.

John felt tears rise in his own eyes at the sight, but he blinked hard to clear them. He had to do this. He had to do this for them. It didn't matter that he didn't want this, that he didn't want to cause them pain. He had no choice; this was the best option for them.

It was thinking of his Marine buddies that brought him the idea he was about to implement. He'd been through hell and back with those guys during his tours of Vietnam and he realized he thought of each of them in the same way he wanted his boys to think of each other: brothers that he'd die for, that he'd kill for, brothers he'd go to the end of the earth for.

Sam and Dean already thought that of each other. John had witnessed it more than enough times to realize. Dean standing up for Sam. Sam covering up for Dean. Those boys would do anything and everything to protect and provide for each other.

But not Dean and Adam.

Not yet anyway.

It crushed a part of John's soul to realize that the best way to bring his sons closer together was to unite them with a common experience shared against a common enemy.

Himself.

As he pulled his belt through the loops of his jeans he justified his plan. If he did this now, hurt them in this way, it would be good in the end. They would learn. They would remember. They would bond over the shared experience at his hand. The ends would justify the means.

He watched as they silently obeyed his commands, each turning and kneeling slowly, sliding their shirts off and placing them on the motel bed in front of them. The dread of what he was about to do caused John's stomach to roll with nausea and remorse as folded the belt over in his hand.

Adam was crying now. Although he wasn't making any sound, John could see the boy's thin shoulders shaking.

 _Shit, when did the kid get so skinny?_

John looked back at Dean's slightly stockier young back. He was thin too, not as troublingly thin as Adam, but still not his normal weight.

So not only had Dean not been taking care of Adam, he hadn't been taking care of himself either.

Tears that had been poised to run down John's own cheeks dried in his eye as he looked at Dean. His son needed this. He needed to get his head right and to realize what he still had in his life, even without Sam.

John took a deep breath and took a step to position himself behind both boys.

14 for Adam. 22 for Dean.

The thought made his hands shake.

With self-hatred and misery rushing through his veins, John lifted his arm and threw the first strike.

/-/-/-

Adam jolted forward with the first bite of the leather, tears already streaming silently down his cheeks. He wasn't even gonna try to stay stoic and tough through this one. He didn't have it in him.

The sound of the next swing whistled in the small room and cracked against Dean's naked back, sending him jerking forward with the power of it.

Fuck, Dad wasn't holding back.

The next lash came again to Adam, causing him to yelp loudly with the hot pain. Then it was Dean again and the blow rocked him forward on his knees, making him gasp and grit his teeth before returning to position.

Adam knew the next was for him, dreading it from the time the last lash hit his back, leaving its stinging mark. The new pain was instant and white-hot, shooting through him like lightening. He didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes until the loud crack of the belt against Dean's back caused them to fly open. Adam watched as Dean felt the leather's burn and tried to absorb the pain it caused, his face creased in agony, his breath shallow and halting.

Again and again the of sting of the belt came down on each of them, pushing Adam forward until he was sobbing against the itchy fabric of the motel bed, tears running freely down his face, unaware of the world around him, feeling only the sting and aching throb of every strike.

"Dean," their father said lowly from behind them and Adam tried to quiet his sobbing enough to hear the words.

"You know how angry I am," Dad said slowly, changing his position and moving until he was standing directly behind Dean, "but more than that I'm disappointed. All these years I've been able to trust you in everything. Now… now I'm not sure I trust you with anything."

Adam watched as Dean's head hung impossibly lower, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Look at your brother," Dad said slowly, his words soft and measured, "Look Dean."

Red, bloodshot eyes filled with pain met his own and Adam couldn't hold back the sob that escaped him.

"You're a better man than this Dean," Dad continued from behind them. "Eight more."

Dean's deep breath of composure faltered at his father's words and he tilted his head in a grim acceptance of the declaration. He was distantly aware of the soft sounds of his father's movement behind him, hearing a tiny familiar sound that he only dimly recognized.

It wasn't until he felt the angry bite against his throbbing back that he was able to place the sound with a knee-jerk memory.

 _Fucking buckle._

Dean hadn't felt that in a long time. Not since that little town in Wisconsin. What was it? Fitchburg? Dean was 10. Stuck in a hotel room for days, with nothing but tv and a bored out of his mind 6 year old for company. He'd just needed a break, just a little time alone. That fucking monster, the shtriga Dad had called it, was supposed to be two towns over. Dean and Sam were supposed to be safe, salted and sigiled in a random motel room away from the danger. How was Dean supposed to know that leaving Sam alone would be the biggest mistake of his life? A mistake that almost cost him his little brother?

That night Dean had welcomed every blow that Dad offered him from the belt. He deserved each one. Even when Dad turned the leather, leaving the buckle to dangle and bite viciously into Dean's young back, Dean hadn't moved, hadn't begged Dad to stop, only accepted what he knew he was due.

And now what, 12 years later, they were back again?

The meaning behind this beating was clear to Dean. This was more than just simply punishment for his shortcomings. This was a reminder; a reminder that Dad hadn't forgotten that night in Wisconsin. That Dad would never forget. That tonight Dad was being forced to treat Dean as if he was still that selfish, disobedient 10 year old who'd almost gotten his brother killed.

The shame was almost more than Dean could bear.

Dean didn't need to look behind him to see the cold contempt that Dad probably had for him right now, the same he'd had that night as he looked on at Dean, while cuddling and snuggling baby Sam as Dean watched from outside the bedroom door, scared, ashamed and filled with more regret then he'd ever experienced in his young life.

As the buckle came down again, Dean felt the little nick it took from his skin, the slice within the bruise that would soon cause a tiny trickle of blood to inch its way down his back, tickling and itching the whole way, irritating Dean with its slowness.

A quiet whimper from his left drew Dean out of his internal suffering momentarily and he glanced next to him, catching Adam's eye just as the next stroke landed against him, causing him to gasp.

He'd already decided to be better for Adam. But seeing him now, puffy eyes filled with pain and fear, drove the message home. Adam had no idea why Dad had turned the buckle onto Dean, no idea what had caused their father to become so brutal. Dean knew that Adam would now fear this cruel punishment for himself. But Dean would never let that happen. Nothing would ever get so bad that Dean would allow their father to turn that on either of his brothers. He'd protected Sam from the possibility and he'd do the same for Adam.

Another searing bite of metal made Dean grunt in pain and Adam cry in sympathy.

"It's ok. It's ok," Dean whispered, the need to comfort his little brother outweighing his own pain.

The next lash caught him low on his back, making Dean raise a clenched fist in pain, stuffing it into his mouth and biting down hard on his fingers to keep himself quiet. He didn't beg when he was ten and he wasn't gonna do it now.

Another came right behind it, hitting him squarely in the middle of his back, making him arch with the sting and bite of the metal.

"Goddammit Dad! Stop!" Adam cried out from beside him, twisting in his kneeled position to try to get their father's attention, "Stop already! Please!" he yelled, choking on rage and sobs.

Dad ignored Adam's enraged pleas and Dean felt another strike land near his right shoulder, the metal cutting and bruising deeply. Dean wanted to scream, wanted to cry out in pain, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. He wouldn't let himself. He deserved every stroke he was given. He had to accept the pain and the punishment.

"Dad!" Adam screamed again, sounding desperate enough that Dean turned his head to look at his younger brother, wishing Adam would just shut up and let them get this over with.

The slight turned allowed Dean to see his father in his peripheral vision, a dark shadow towering behind him, arm slowly rising again, metal of the belt buckle catching in the light of the motel lamps. Dean turned away quickly, eyes on the floor, not wanting to see any more, needing to preparing himself for the next strike.

It came down hard on his opposite shoulder, vicious enough that he could again feel blood bloom at the spot where the buckle landed.

"You fucking bastard!" Adam screamed ferociously, his throat raw and angry tears streaking his cheek.

Dean felt his father's movement before he saw it and threw himself sideways, catching the harsh lash that was intended for Adam against his already aching right shoulder.

The room was silent for a moment but for the panting breathes coming from each of them.

"Move Dean." Dad said darkly and Dean could feel his father's overwhelming presence behind them.

"He's just a kid Dad," Dean said, keeping himself on top of his brother, pressing Adam's head to his chest, willing the kid to stay quiet, "He didn't mean it."

"Dean…" Dad warned.

"Dad, please," Dean begged, his voice weak and tired, "Don't"

Dean could feel Adam's heart racing under him, mimicking the thudding of his own heart in his chest. Dean chanced gazing up behind him, hoping to judge the likelihood of Dad letting Adam off the hook.

"That fucking mouth of yours again, Adam," Dad mumbled.

Dean felt Adam shudder at their father's words, but his little brother took in a short rallying breath and whispered, "Let off me Dean. I'll take it,"

"No Adam," Dean whispered back, keeping a strong hold on Adam's head, not allowing him to move away from the safety of the human shield Dean had created.

Dean turned slightly; just enough to be able to look up into his father's eyes, "Please, no more,"

Dean wouldn't beg for himself, but he'd sure as hell beg for his brother.

Adam looked out from under Dean's protective shoulder warily, watching his father consider them.

Dad contemplated for a moment then took a deep breath and turned away from them, winding the worn belt back through the loops of his jeans.

Neither Adam nor Dean moved, still kneeling on the floor, Dean protectively shielding Adam, each watching carefully as their father buckled his belt and reached to grab his coat off the chair near the motel room door.

"Take care of your brother," he said, sounding strange and distant, not looking back at them as he opened the door and walked out, sending a shock of icy winter wind whipping through the open door and making each boy instantly shiver and shrink back into each other.

/-/-/-/-/

If it weren't for Dean's death grip on him, Adam would have collapsed into the motel room carpet the moment the door closed. He felt more exhausted and emotionally spent then he had in his entire life. His entire body seemed to be throbbing in time with his heartbeat and his head was a vice of pain from all his stupid emotional baby crying.

Adam tried to shrug off Dean's hold, suddenly feeling embarrassed of his crying and his nakedness.

Dean seemed to sense the awkwardness of the moment and let go, moving away from Adam and sitting back heavily on the carpet looking as exhausted and terrible as Adam felt.

Adam reached up onto the bed to grab his shirt; wincing with fresh pain as the new welts on his shoulders stretched. He grabbed his shirt, using it to wipe away the tears that lingered on his cheeks before quickly tossing it on over his shoulders, grunting at the pain the movement caused.

"He's a fucking bastard," Adam mumbled, more to himself than anything, leaning forward against the motel bed still too spent to stand up.

Dean didn't reply, only pulled up his knees, resting his arms on them then running a hand over his face, wiping off tears and sweat then rubbing it on his jeans.

They were quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts and their own pain. Dean stared down at his jeans, absently picking at the fibers around the rips near his knees. He wanted to say something to Adam, but he didn't know what or even how to start. He wanted to explain Dad's punishment, reassure his brother that he'd always protect him. But the words were a jumble in his mouth and none were able to make it past the brick wall of his shame and embarrassment.

Finally when Dean did gather up the guts to look over to his brother, ready to at least say, 'I'm sorry' he saw what a mess the kid was. Dean could see about twenty emotions all playing out across his little brother's young face: fear, sadness, embarrassment, rage, insolence, bitterness, injustice and all of them making Adam's already tearful expression that much more agonizing.

"Hey," Dean said gently, causing Adam to glance up at him.

"Hey," he said again softly, noticing that Adam was fighting to control the quiver of his bottom lip.

"It's ok," Dean whispered, sitting up and moving closer to his brother, ignoring the pain the movement caused him.

"It's ok," he said again, running a gentle hand over his brother's hair, pulling him down to his chest for a soft hug, being careful not to touch his back.

"It's ok," he repeated again, almost involuntarily as he stroked his brother's hair gently.

He could never tell Adam that it was ok to cry, that it was ok to be mad, to hate Dad, to think that the man was a bastard. He wasn't Sam. He'd never have the right words to tell his brother all the things that would really comfort him.

But he could sit here. Be here.

And maybe being here would be enough.


End file.
